


The Cost of Defiance

by bittersweetangstlord



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bargaining, Forced Orgasm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Slavery, Incest, Lotor does not deserve this, M/M, Minor Lance/Lotor (Voltron), Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Parent/Child Incest, Rape, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Victim Lotor, What Have I Done, lotor angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16148447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweetangstlord/pseuds/bittersweetangstlord
Summary: Things are going well for Lotor. He has his team, his long-term plans, his position as Emperor Pro Tem, and even a surprisingly healthy relationship with Lance, who has left Voltron to be with him.Of course, nothing good lasts forever. When Zarkon wakes up and learns about Lotor's involvement with Lance, Lotor has to make a hard choice: allow his father to hurt Lance, or offer himself instead.





	The Cost of Defiance

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this.
> 
> In case you somehow got here without reading the tags or summary, MAJOR NONCON AND INCEST WARNING. THIS IS VERY DARK. Proceed with caution, or go read something else. This particular fic is NOT for anyone who might be disturbed by dark content.
> 
> Consider yourself warned.

Lotor’s life has been long, varied, and mostly defined by living in his father’s shadow. Whether trying to work within the confines of the Emperor’s commands or hiding away in exile as he rebelled, everything he’s done has been in the context of his father’s mostly negative influence on his life.

Things changed when Voltron took Zarkon out. Although Lotor still had to avoid Haggar, he and his team felt like they had more freedom and resources than ever before. Lotor knew that this was only temporary, that Zarkon would wake up eventually, perhaps soon, so he was determined to make the most of his time in charge while it lasted.

It was during this time that a series of mishaps led to Lotor and his team temporarily hiding the then-Red Paladin of Voltron, Lance, from Haggar and the rest of the Empire. This lasted for quite a while, and Lance and Lotor bonded during that time. By the time the coast was clear and it was safe for Lance to return to Voltron, it seemed that his team had already shuffled their placements as paladins and no longer needed him, so he asked Lotor if he could stay with him. Lotor gave him a set of armor and welcomed him to the team.

That night, they shared their first kiss.

For a while after that, everything was going well for them. The Sincline ships were coming along nicely, Voltron wasn’t interfering very often, and Haggar seemed not to have figured out Lotor’s plans. The team was functioning well and all of its members seemed happy, including their new addition. Best of all, Lotor had Lance at his side, and the two were exploring their new relationship and learning how to love and support one another.

Yes, everything was going very well.

~*~*~*~

“My lord, we just received a message from Central Command,” Acxa says. “Emperor Zarkon requires your presence immediately.”

“ _ What? _ ” Lance startles, turning around immediately to look at Acxa.

Lotor is only mildly surprised. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the witch found a way to revive the fallen Emperor. “Very well. Prepare a ship.”

“Do you think he’s onto us?” Ezor asks, a hint of worry in her tone.

“No, my father is simply ready to return to the throne.” Lotor looks to Ezor, then to Lance, reassuring them both. “He can have it. Our plans have not changed.” He allows himself a confident smile. If the witch still hasn’t figured out their plans after pheobs of working right under her nose, there’s simply no way that she’s figured out something now, not while she must have been working harder than ever before to bring back Zarkon. Looking over his team, his eyes fall on his quietest general. “Narti, come with me. The rest of you, continue to oversee construction.”

Narti salutes and follows Lotor as he leaves. Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid stay put. Lance, predictably, doesn’t follow orders, instead trailing Narti as she follows Lotor.

“Make sure the ship is ready,” Lotor tells Narti. She nods and heads to the ship, leaving him alone with Lance.

“I should come too,” Lance says as soon as Narti is out of earshot.

“Absolutely not. There is no reason whatsoever to put you in that kind of danger.”

Lance grabs Lotor’s hand. “I know you’re more nervous than you’re pretending to be. Let me help you. I want to be there for you.”

Lotor shakes his head immediately. “If anyone sees you, what can I tell them?”

“They already know that you kept me from them.”

“Yes, which is exactly why I need to keep you  _ safe _ . Bringing you into the heart of Central Command is quite literally the opposite of that.”

“I’ll stay hidden on the ship! No one will know I’m there.”

“No, Lance, that--”

“ _ Please _ . I want to be there for you right afterwards. I know talking to your father again isn’t going to be a pleasant experience. You’re going to need someone there for you after the fact.” He wraps his arms around Lotor, and although Lotor can barely feel him through their sets of armor, he still appreciates the gesture. “I want to  _ always _ be there for you.”

Against his better judgement, Lotor sighs and acquiesces. “Fine. As long as you stay in the ship, I suppose you can come along.”

Lance goes up onto his tiptoes to kiss Lotor’s cheek, or at least his jaw. The attempt draws a reluctant smile out of Lotor -- his lover’s gestures almost never fail to cheer him up.

So why does he have a bad feeling about this?

~*~*~*~

Haggar doesn’t enter the throne room with Lotor, instead turning away and walking back toward the hangar that currently holds Lotor’s ship. This makes Lotor even more nervous than he already is, but he disregards it for now. Chasing after her will only give her more reason to believe that he’s hiding something -- or, in this case, some _ one _ .

Within the privacy of his own mind, he curses himself to allowing Lance to come with him. He has never yet managed to say no to Lance on anything Lance really wanted, but Lotor feels as though he really should have insisted this time. But, at this point, there’s nothing he can do except try to make this meeting as short as possible.

Taking a deep breath, Lotor enters the throne room. The magenta light common to all Galra ships is even more oppressively bright here than anywhere else in Central Command, visually bathing the room in the glow of Quintessence, likely to remind all subjects that the Emperor is the source of their life and their power. It’s an effective trick, if a bit tacky, visually speaking. He can’t give the throne design the same complement -- only a weakling would actually find it intimidating, and it looks far too unprofessional to be respectable. Lotor thinks that when he becomes Emperor, he’s going to redesign the entire room, partially to make it look nicer, but mostly just to disrespect his father’s design choices. Just because he’ll have the authority to do so at that point.

He hardly listens to anything Zarkon is saying, paying only enough attention to react as the Emperor would expect. His thoughts are preoccupied by worrying about Lance.

Just as Lotor is about to stand up and make an “impassioned” speech for his father’s benefit, a knock on the throne room door echoes through the large chamber. Before anyone can react, the door opens to reveal Haggar and Lance. She grips one of his wrists just above a set of handcuffs, and she drags him into the room. 

Lotor’s heart sinks. He wants to rush over to Lance, but he forces himself to stay kneeling. He doesn’t want to give anything away by reacting too strongly.

“Sire," Haggar says, "the soldiers found this one hiding in Lotor's ship." She shoves Lance forward, causing him to stumble and fall to his knees. "I believe he's a human, like the Champion."

"What is he doing here?" Zarkon asks. His voice is deceptively neutral, and the lack of reaction makes Lotor incredibly nervous.

"He's just a traveling companion," he lies. "He keeps me entertained on long voyages."

"I think he may be one of the Paladins," Haggar theorizes, and Lotor has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reacting. "He matches the description of one of them from the reports we've received, and there were rumors circulating for a while that Lotor had taken the paladin that my druids attempted to capture."

Zarkon's unnatural purple glare falls on Lotor. "Explain."

Lotor holds his head high and proud. "I managed to capture him after the druids failed to do so,” he claims. It’s a blatant lie, but if Haggar doesn’t know what happened, he’s not about to correct her. “I keep him as a trophy. I have not been so fortunate as to be able to seize one of the Lions of Voltron, but I have succeeded in capturing a Paladin." He makes a mental note to apologize to Lance later for referring to him as a trophy, but for now, the lie is necessary.

"Then why didn't you say so?" Zarkon's voice drops impossibly lower, and Lotor has to fight to not react. Out of his peripheral vision, he can see Lance curling in on himself where he's kneeling on the floor, like he's trying to disappear.

"You only asked what he was doing here," Lotor points out. Normally, he would not be so flippant, but this is the first defense that springs to mind.

For too long, Zarkon is silent, and Lotor hides his fear behind a mask of indifference. Finally, Zarkon says, "He is merely a prisoner, then?"

"Of course."

"Then you won't mind handing him over to me. Giving me a Paladin of Voltron will start to make up for your failures."

Lotor freezes. "I, well, I would rather keep him. He's somewhat... useful to me."

"How so? As a slave? He doesn't look hardy enough to be of much use."

"Well..." For the life of him, Lotor can't figure out what to say. He's trapped.

"Or have you finally taken a little pet for yourself?" Zarkon laughs, low and menacing. "I didn't think you were man enough to do so."

Lotor feels sick at the implications. It isn’t uncommon for commanders to claim slaves for themselves to keep for pleasure, but Lotor would never do such a thing. Still, he doesn't react. If his father wants to believe that, fine.

"Let me have a little taste of your prize. Then you can have him back and keep him for as long as you want."

Lance inhales sharply, looking absolutely terrified. Lotor tries to weigh his options, tries to think of another way out... and comes up with nothing.

Zarkon motions to Haggar to bring Lance closer, and she uses her magic to stand him up so that she can force him to walk forwards. There's... there's nothing...

"NO!" Lotor yells. He covers his mouth directly afterwards, but the damage has already been done.

That wretched purple gaze returns to Lotor. "You would deny me? On what basis? What right do you have to say no to me?"

He could cower and give up. He could act jealous and pretend like the only reason he said no was because he doesn't want to share. Instead, Lotor says, "I won't let you hurt him."

Zarkon's eyes narrow. "Really? And how do you plan to stop me?"

Lotor stands, meeting his glare. "Take me instead. This is between us. Don't involve him in this."

Mild surprise shows on Zarkon's face, but his expression remains otherwise infuriatingly passive, and Lotor wishes that he could tell what he’s thinking. Zarkon's voice is all-too-neutral as he says, "You offer yourself up instead? You wish for me to do to you as I would to him?"

"Wait..." Lance's voice is quiet, but Lotor's mind automatically focuses on it. "Lotor, don't do this. I'll be fine. Just--"

"Whatever you want to do," Lotor says a little louder, speaking over him, "I can handle it. I'm not as weak as you think I am."

Zarkon seems to consider this for a moment before motioning with one claw-tipped finger. "Come here then."

"Wait!" Lance lunges forward, reaching toward Lotor. "N--" Just then, Haggar uses her magic to freeze him in place, leaving him unable to do anything but watch.

Lotor holds his head up high, carefully not looking over at Lance as he approaches the Emperor's throne. His instincts demand that he should kneel, that he should try to keep from aggravating Zarkon, but he decides to show no weakness or submission. He stands mere feet from his father for the first time in millennia.

Zarkon stands to loom over Lotor, and he brings one gloved hand up to cup the side of his face. It's the first gentle touch Lotor can  _ ever _ remember receiving from his father, and the twisted irony sickens him even further. He closes his eyes and forces himself not to flinch.

"Look at me," Zarkon commands.

Lotor's eyes snap open, and he tries to show no emotion as he maintains eye contact.

"Do you know what you are offering?" Zarkon's hand slides down to wrap lightly around Lotor's throat, threatening to choke him at any moment.

"I'm not naive; I know what commanders do with slaves they pick out for their own personal use. I know what you wanted to do with Lance." He keeps his gaze and tone steady, and he says clearly, "I am not  _ offering _ you anything freely, but you have left me with little choice. I would rather surrender myself to you than let you hurt my companion. But let no one say that I gave myself up willingly."

Zarkon brings his other hand up to Lotor's head, running his claws lightly through his hair in a mimicry of affection. "Normally, I would not approve of a father doing this to his own son, but as your Emperor, I feel that I need to teach you a lesson about rebelling and saying no to your rightful leader. You need to learn respect."

Without further warning, he begins choking Lotor, lifting him off of the ground by only the grip on his neck. Lotor struggles, barely able to pull in any semblance of breath. Zarkon uses his other hand to unclasp the armored pieces of his suit, letting each fall to the ground, leaving him in only a thin bodysuit. Then the Emperor tosses the Prince roughly onto the throne, as if to mock his aspirations. While the latter coughs and tries to catch his breath, the former uses his claws to begin shredding his bodysuit open. Lotor flinches away, but he continues regardless, tearing away each piece until he’s completely naked and exposed.

The Emperor roughly pulls Lotor off the throne and onto the floor before he sits back down in the throne, though he notably stays at the front edge of it. He undoes his armor between his legs, exposing his semi-hard cock. Then, he grabs the Prince’s hair to force him to kneel between his legs and to bring his mouth up to his cock.

Lotor rebelliously keeps his mouth shut, but Zarkon pries his jaws apart and forces him forward. Unable to effectively resist, Lotor gives in and opens his mouth so that Zarkon can take what he wants. A wave of revulsion sweeps over him as he feels the erection enter his mouth, feels it swell up further and harden, but he tries not to focus on it. He doesn't want to think about how this is his  _ father _ whom he's being forced to pleasure in this way.

Grabbing Lotor’s hair, Zarkon pulls him forward and then yanks him back, moving him like a mere toy. The motion is dizzying for Lotor, and all he can do is try to relax enough that the tug on his hair doesn’t hurt so badly, letting his father toss him back and forth like a ragdoll. This continues for a few agonizing moments before Zarkon pulls him off with just as much roughness as with nearly every other action he's taken toward his son during this whole encounter. Though Lotor is grateful that that particular torment has ended, he wonders why Zarkon made him stop. What else does the Emperor have in mind?

Before he can stop himself, Lotor glances over to Lance. Though he’s still frozen, Lotor can see shimmering tear-tracks below his eyes, and he doesn't know whether the tears are for him or because the witch's magic is hurting Lance. Either possibility makes Lotor's heart ache, and he turns away, looking down at the base of the throne.

Suddenly, Zarkon picks him up again, tossing him back onto the throne and manhandling him until he's slumped on his back with his legs hooked over the arms of the throne. Lotor wonders why he's been arranged like this until Zarkon reaches under him with both hands and lifts his ass so that his pelvis is in the air, aligned with Zarkon's.

Although Lotor knows logically that it would be better to just wait and allow everything to happen instead of trying to fight, that resisting will only make the process more painful, he can't help but squirm and try to get away. On an instinctual level, he feels the need to fight back or run away or both. He tries to pull his legs up so that he can kick Zarkon, but all he can manage to do is set his feet against Zarkon’s chest and push as hard as he can. Even so, at the angle he’s being held in, he can’t get any leverage.  “No,” he murmurs before he can stop himself. “No, no,  _ no _ .”

At this point, his efforts are meaningless. Zarkon aligns his cock with Lotor's hole and presses in all at once without any regard for his son’s comfort, and Lotor can't hold back a cry of pain. He's certain that Zarkon must have torn him open.

Without hesitation, Zarkon pummels into Lotor, setting a truly punishing pace. The force of the thrusts carries through Lotor’s slight frame to where his shoulder blades are pressed against the hard material of the throne, holding nearly all of his bodyweight. He’s sure that he would be hitting his head against the back of the throne were it not for his father’s grip holding him firmly in place for each brutal thrust. The pain of Zarkon’s cock splitting him open and pounding into him is overwhelming at first, but it gradually subsides into something a little more manageable, mixed with sparks of pleasure as the intrusion stimulates Lotor's prostate.

Now that the pain isn’t distracting Lotor, the reality of the situation, which has been sinking in slowly, finally hits him in full force. He’s always known that at some point, if he let his guard down, some Galra commander might decide that he’s too pretty to be deserving of respect and proceed to take him by force, but he never once imagined that this would come from his own  _ father _ . He feels so sick that he fears that he might throw up. Tears sting his eyes and then spill over despite his efforts to blink them away.

"It seems that you really are weak," Zarkon taunts casually, as if he weren't currently maintaining a truly brutal pace. "You wanted me to take you instead of the paladin, and yet you cannot endure silently."

Lotor shuts his eyes tightly, as if that could block out the mixed and confusing pain-pleasure of Zarkon's actions and the sting of his words. Normally, such words wouldn't get to him, not after literal millennia of learning to ignore such insults, but Zarkon’s right about one thing: Lotor is doing this for Lance. So shouldn’t he at least be relieved that Lance isn’t going through this torment right now…?

"Pitiful half-breed," Zarkon continues. "You're no son of mine."

Some last bit of rebellion sparks in Lotor, and he forces himself to look Zarkon in the eyes as he says, "You're the one who married an Altean."

Zarkon growls, pulling out of Lotor before flipping him over so hard that Lotor smacks his head against the seat of the throne. He manhandles him into a kneeling position and then forces his head down so that Lotor's ass is entirely exposed. Then, he roughly re-enters, drawing a whimper out of the prince.

With this new position, Zarkon can press in even harder. He pounds Lotor hard enough to hurt again, and some mixture of the pain and indignity and revulsion Lotor feels finally breaks the last of his composure. His labored breaths turn into sobs, and he can't stop the tears that keep coming to his eyes. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t deserve it. This is so unfair and humiliating that he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Even through all this, however, the pure sensation keeps sparking pleasure every time Zarkon’s cock brushes against Lotor’s prostate, which just makes him feel even sicker. Why is he even  _ slightly _ enjoying this? He grits his teeth and tries not to focus on it, but what else can he focus on? There is nothing else but the pain of the insertion and pounding, the cold, hard material of the throne, and the emotional turmoil tearing him open much like his father’s far less metaphorical actions.

Finally, with a few last thrusts, Zarkon cums inside Lotor, filling him with a nauseating warm sensation before he slowly pulls out. Lotor stays still, keeping his face pressed against the seat of the throne, and dares to hope that this is the last of it. Perhaps his father will step away, and he’ll have the opportunity to get up and leave.

However, Zarkon surprises him by picking him up with unprecedented gentleness, nearly cradling him as he sits down and arranges him in his lap with Lotor’s back pressed against his chest. Lotor is too strung out and overwhelmed to resist, unable to decipher what this strange behavior means.

"It seems that you were enjoying your punishment," Zarkon says, drawing attention to Lotor's erect cock by trailing one claw along its length.

Lotor shakes his head in denial, shrinking away from his touch. He tries to move off of his lap and get up, but Zarkon is having none of it, pulling him back again. Lotor continues to squirm, but Zarkon shushes him.

"Did you really think I would be done so soon?  _ That _ was your punishment for lying to me and defying me. Only  _ now _ will I extract the payment for leaving your dear little friend alone."

Though he tries not to, Lotor finds himself looking over at Lance again, noting even more tear tracks on his still-frozen face. The sight hurts Lotor right down to his soul, but it also reminds him why he's doing this. He stops resisting as Zarkon continues to touch him, all-too-gentle by contrast to mere moments before.

Zarkon lightly ruts up against him, rubbing his flaccid cock against Lotor's ass while he moves his hands up and roughly pinches his nipples. Lotor arches his back, though even he doesn't know whether he's trying to get away from the touch or seeking more of it. Zarkon then more gently massages his chest for a moment before doing it again.

After a few minutes of this, Zarkon's cock has gone erect again, and he lifts Lotor by the hips to ease him back onto it, gradually filling him inch by inch. Everything is so gentle this time, and Lotor doesn't know how to handle it. He moans brokenly as Zarkon rocks slowly up into him and begins stroking his cock in time with the rolling thrusts.

"Filthy slut," Zarkon murmurs into his ear. "You love this."

"N-no," Lotor manages to say, though he doesn't sound very convincing, even to himself. The physical pleasure is so good this time around on its own merits that as long as he doesn't think about the full implications of what's happening, he can lose himself in it.

"I should have done this to you long ago," Zarkon says, thrusting up a little faster now. "I should have realized that this is all you're good for."

Lotor groans, focused on his father’s actions rather than his words, and his eyes slip shut. He’s overwhelmed and disconnected to the point where he's not even sure what he's feeling anymore beyond the confusing pleasure, pleasure,  _ pleasure _ ...

"I think I'll keep you and your friend both," Zarkon continues. "It's been quite a while since I've bothered to keep a harem, but that seems to be the proper place for you. You and your little friend can live there together, keeping each other company whenever I’m not using you both."

At the reference to Lance, Lotor opens his eyes again as his mind regains some clarity. He tries to pull away, tries to get off of Zarkon's lap, but Zarkon is too quick, and he holds him against his chest.

"What's wrong, son?" Zarkon asks, still thrusting up into him. His voice sounds low and even, but Lotor can detect the hint of mockery in it. "I remember how much you wanted my attention when you were younger. Are you not grateful now?"

Frustration and desperation bring tears back to Lotor's eyes. He's too weak to fight or resist or get away. He's not strong enough to endure quietly. He's even  _ enjoying _ this to some degree like a disgusting little whore. He hasn't felt this worthless in a long, long time.

Zarkon's thrusts pick up a little more speed as he seems to be chasing his own climax. He continues to pump Lotor's cock, and Lotor can't hold back a moan as he too feels the brink of pleasure approaching.

"Keep moaning for me," Zarkon growls. "Call out to me."

Lotor lets out a broken sob, but he obeys. He tips his head back against Zarkon's shoulder and moans louder than before. "F-father..." he murmurs.

Zarkon thrusts up even harder, nailing Lotor's prostate and causing him to cry out. Leaning in close to Lotor’s ear, Zarkon commands, “Cum for me,” as he hits his son’s prostate again and again and continues to stroke his cock.

The pleasure tips Lotor over the brink, and he cums. "Father!" he cries, even a wave of revulsion accompanies the rush of orgasm.

Growling in Lotor's ear, Zarkon thrusts up a few more times as he cums as well, spilling into Lotor for the second time.

Lotor slumps back, too wrung out to try to get up or get away, and tears slip from his eyes without him even being sure why. Exhaustion drowns out every other emotion. He hopes that it really is over now, but he doesn't even flinch when Zarkon gently lifts him up off of his cock and repositions him so that he's sitting sideways on his lap, laying against his chest. From this position, Lotor can't really look back at Lance, and some small part of him is almost grateful that at least he doesn't have to look at his lover at the moment.

"It was a mistake to try to make a warrior out of you," Zarkon says softly, his tone sounding almost kind. "From now on, I'm keeping you, forever." He wipes the tears from Lotor’s eyes and then strokes his hair gently, soothingly, and he wraps his other arm around his waist.

At the moment, Lotor is too tired to even care. He simply falls asleep in his father’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. Don't say I didn't warn you.
> 
> I'd like to give credit to my beta, Mara, for helping me to make this even _more_ viscerally horrifying than it was in the first draft. If you felt physically ill, you can probably thank her for that.
> 
> So, if I succeeded in horrifying you, or if you got some dark enjoyment out of this like I did from writing it, please leave kudos. I'd also definitely appreciate feedback comments. Thank you!


End file.
